


I bet you kiss your knuckles

by cheshirecat101



Series: Tumblr Prompts [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Control, Deputy Derek, Deputy Derek Hale, Domestic Violence, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M, Obsession, Obsessive Behavior, Past Abuse, Physical Abuse, Pining Derek, Possessive Behavior, Suicide Attempt, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-13 05:06:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4508940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheshirecat101/pseuds/cheshirecat101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has been in the same abusive relationship with Theo Raeken for two years now. Enter Deputy Derek Hale, who is determined to save him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I bet you kiss your knuckles

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [I bet you kiss your knuckles](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4672928) by [Schizocheater](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schizocheater/pseuds/Schizocheater)



> IN THE STRING OF ME NOT BEING ABLE TO KEEP THINGS SHORT HERE IS THIS BEAST. ENJOY IT PLEASE BECAUSE IT TOOK TWO OR THREE WEEKS OF MY LIFE.

He still remembers the first incident like it was yesterday. There hadn’t even been a panicked call to 911, nothing but silence until the teen showed up in the ER.

 

_He’d been the one sent to respond to the call, the need for the police to come in an effort to explain the bruises. Everyone who looked like they’d been roughed up had to be questioned by the police, though in this case, at least there wasn’t a stabbing or a shooting or something. Though when he saw the kid, he wondered if this was worse._

 

He sucks in a deep breath, looking up at the clock over the window to Sheriff Stilinski’s office. He wonders, yet again, what the Sheriff knows and what he’s done to help in the past, because obviously he can’t be totally oblivious. If it’s clear for Derek, an outsider to see, then it’s clear for someone in the family. But maybe he doesn’t want to see, or maybe Theo is just that good. Theo.

 

_Theo had been the one to come in with him, panic in his voice when he explained things to the ER nurses, selling them a story about a mugging, someone who’d pulled over behind them while they were parked on the side of the road, the jeep having failed. He’d fought them off as best he could, hence the marks–very few, very, very few–adorning his own face, as if from a struggle of some sort. Just not that kind of struggle._

 

Quite a few more minutes to go. He taps his pen against the report, looking down at it as he tries to phrase his words. The jumbled chaos of  _anger, hurt, possessiveness, helplessness, fear, worry_  tangling and twisting and making it hard for him to clearly think. He needs to finish this, he knows, but every time he sets pen to paper he can only think of that first night, the first time he’d noticed something was wrong.

 

_When he first arrived, he’d bought into Theo’s story, but not entirely. There was something off about the whole thing, as truly distraught as Theo seemed to be. Inconsolable, really, wanting to follow wherever they took his then not-quite-boyfriend, wanting to be wherever he was despite that being an impossibility right now. So instead he’d stammered out the story as he was telling it, panic in his eyes, just enough detail to make it seem believable. His breath hitched at the right moments, but there was something absent there. Something missing from his eyes, something that Derek couldn’t pinpoint. He didn’t know what it was until far later; triumph._

 

He realizes he’s biting into his lip a little too hard, not quite hard enough to draw blood but still pretty close. He doesn’t know why it affects him like this, why it’s so hard for him to buy into what everyone else seems to believe. Or maybe they know. Maybe they all know and they’re just too afraid of having the truth confirmed. After all, isn’t it always worse when you have a terrible fear confirmed, something that you’ve dreaded for so long that it begins to feel unreal? And he knows what that feels like. How unreal everything is to him now, and may always be.

 

_This all came before he actually got to see the teen, all preliminary things as the doctors worked on him. It was still a few more hours before there was any news, and Theo waited–seemingly anxiously–with Derek by his side, a steady feeling of dread rising up Derek’s spinal cord, latching onto and climbing each vertebrae until it coiled around his brain. Maybe the teen wouldn’t make it. Maybe this would be the end, and he couldn’t imagine what that would do to the sheriff. That’d be it for him. Finally, a nurse emerged and talked to them both for a minute, though she said quite firmly that Theo wouldn’t be allowed in yet because he wasn’t family. But Derek could go right ahead._

 

Derek doesn’t realize that he’s about to break his pen until just a second before it happens, the plastic outside of it bending with the force that he’s applying. He calms himself, bending it back into the proper shape and putting it down for the moment, instead laying his hand down on his report. Safer, that way. 

 

_It’d been worse than he’d ever imagined while sitting in that bustling waiting room. His eyes couldn’t stop looking at him, taking in every bruise, every cut, every mark that was sure to be a scar. One eye was obscured beneath a bandage, and he wondered exactly how bad the damage there was. If he was going to lose it or not._  
“Stiles,” he called softly, on a first name basis at this point. After getting so close to the Stilinski family, after becoming a deputy next to the sheriff, that name was his to use  
The non-bandaged eye opened, and he was suddenly drowning in pools of liquid amber, brain short circuiting as he forgot what he was going to ask. What he needed to ask.  
“Hey,” Stiles said, trying on a smile, but there was blood still in his mouth and Derek again wondered what they would be able to save. “Come to visit, or is this official police business?”  
“Official police business. If we’d known it was you…well, I’m sure your dad will be here soon. How are you feeling?”  
“Well, they gave me hella morphine, so I’m feeling pretty damn good,” Stiles said, and the corners of Derek’s mouth lifted into a smile that he really, truly could not feel.   
“Stiles,” he said softly, eyes serious as he looked at him. “I need to know what happened.”  
And oh, something died in Stiles’s eyes–eye–at that, and Derek could tell in an instant that there was something wrong here, something off. And suddenly Theo was the main suspect.

 

The paper crumples beneath his hand, and Derek looks down at it in surprise, unaware that he’d clenched the whole thing so tight that his knuckles had gone white. He releases it with some difficulty, breathing and heartrate beginning to calm down. That was where the lies had started.

***

Stiles’s hand is shaking as he lifts the spoon to his mouth, and he has to give up halfway through, placing it back down again. Gently, oh so gently, so that the handle doesn’t clatter against the ceramic of the bowl. He’s learned to be so very quiet, something that at first felt unnatural and now feels like home. Safety. The only kind of security he can have at this point. And he wonders, again, why it hasn’t ended yet.

Theo will be home soon. Stiles usually waits for him to eat, but he was so goddamn hungry that he couldn’t even think. Now that he’s realizing what he’s done, his whole body is shaking and it won’t stop, stop, stop.

 

_“Stop!”_

 

The spoon, halfway back to his mouth, drops into the bowl with a clatter, and he curses as soup splatters all over himself and the table. He’s got to clean all this up, got to hide all the evidence before Theo comes home. It was why he’d eaten something so light, because it made his stomach and brain stop hurting, but he’d still be able to eat a full meal with Theo. So as to not arouse suspicion, but it seems he may be doing that anyway. Just by existing, it seems that his actions are too much. Theo can’t control himself, and that’s Stiles’s fault, isn’t it?

 

_“Please, Theo, stop!”_

 

He clears his throat, something sharp clawing at the back of it, and suddenly can’t stomach even his light snack anymore. He shouldn’t have bothered eating it in the first place, really, what had been the point? He knows that he almost always ends up feeling sick anyway, unable to handle much food, and it’s something that Theo’s commented on just a few times too many. That always means that something bad is coming his way, some “precautionary measure”. Just like…no, he wasn’t going to think about that right now. That wasn’t…

Coughing now, and he knows that he won’t spit up blood this time, but the phantom taste of copper is in his mouth and he feels like he’s going to be sick. Abruptly, he pushes back his chair, using his napkin to wipe down the table and himself before picking up his spoon and bowl, carrying them into the kitchen. The rest of the soup goes down the drain and garbage disposal, his napkin in the trash before he begins to wash the dishes that he’d used. They’ll go back where he found them, perfectly in place before Theo gets here so he won’t know anything’s wrong. Only…

A pair of arms slides around his waist, the warm weight of another body pressed up against his back. He freezes where he is, sponge in one hand, and the bowl he was washing in the other. Good thing he didn’t drop and break it in the sink, that would have been worse. A face nuzzles against his back, and Stiles tries to remember how to breathe.

“Hello, baby.”

Oh thank god, he’s in a good mood. “Baby” means good, “babe” means bad. One of those little things that he’d picked up on after only a few weeks in their relationship, something that had suddenly become of vital importance to his survival. And honestly, how sad was that? But none of this is exactly brimming with cheer, and he’s stopped caring somewhere along the way. Things got careless somewhere around the time he wound up on the floor of a locked bathroom with an empty prescription bottle next to him. Though that door hadn’t stayed locked very long, and if he was caught off guard, he could still remember the feeling of fingers being jammed into his mouth to touch the back of his throat and the ensuing mess that’d left him choking while a far too calm voice said, “It’s okay, Stiles, I’m here. I’m here, Stiles.”

He wonders, sometimes, if Theo really means what he says. Well, not the obvious things, because most of the time he means exactly the opposite of what he says– _”I’m not angry” “I promise I won’t do it again” “I would never hurt you”_ –but the big things. The “I love you”s, the “I would die for you”s, the “I will never leave you”s. Well. He knows that last one is true. Theo won’t leave him even if Stiles desperately wants him to, because at this point, why would he? He’s put in all of this time and energy into making Stiles what he wants, making him “perfect”– _whispered against velvet lips amidst satin sheets and oh he believes him_ –that he wouldn’t want to lose his investment. And beyond that? Stiles may not believe him when he says he loves him, but he certainly believes that Theo is obsessed with him. Past the point of no return, as it were.

“How was your day?” Stiles asks, careful to keep his voice still in an even neutral, still trying to gauge his boyfriend’s mood before he tries on any emotions himself. It’s always easier that way, always better for the both of them. And he needs things to be as good as they can be, or he might just do it and succeed this time.

“Lonely without you,” Theo answers, nuzzling his face against the side of Stiles’s like a needy cat seeking attention. And he’s certainly as temperamental as one. But right now, he’s in a very good mood, though what Stiles is currently doing couldn’t have escaped his notice. Maybe he’s in a forgiving as well as good mood, but Stiles isn’t holding his breath for it, knowing that more than likely, Theo’s good mood will wear off eventually– _soon_ , his brain whispers,  _get out now_ –and Stiles will bear the consequences.

Stiles puts down the bowl and the sponge, drying his hands off carefully before sliding his hands along the arms around his waist, letting them settle on Theo’s hands, who quickly engulfs them in his own, linking fingers with him. “It was lonely here too,” he says, letting a smile slip into his voice, and Theo chuckles and kisses his ear, dangerously close to a spot that makes Stiles go weak at the knees, that Theo knows what to do with and uses oh so well, even if Stiles wishes that he didn’t. Another way to grip him close.

But here…no, he doesn’t even dare bring it up, knowing that he’s already going to face repercussions from eating before Theo got home. He takes a deep breath and that was a mistake, as Theo’s arms tighten around his abdomen, feeling the air move through his lungs, the rise and fall of his chest. “You’re thinking about something,” he murmurs against Stiles’s ear, lips far too close to that one little spot, and Stiles resists the urge to wiggle, hot breath dancing dangerously against his ear. Not fair. Theo knows exactly what he’s doing.

“I was just thinking…” He sighs, feeling Theo’s arms around him, knowing that they’ll tighten to a vice in a second. “I think it’s time for me to go to college, isn’t it? I mean, I’m 19 now, Theo, I already missed a year. Which is okay,” he quickly qualifies as Theo’s arms begin to tighten. “I had to…recover from…You know. But I think I should go now. Working is fine but I don’t have much else to do around the house during the day.”

And he knows Theo has arranged it that way, making Stiles actually appreciate his company because at least it’s someone to see, someone to talk to. Now that all of his friends are at school, a lot of them having scattered across the country because while Beacon Hills is nice, it can be a trap, they have a lot less time for him, and while Theo goes to school as well, he always makes time for Stiles, because he knows there’s danger in leaving him alone for too long. Wasn’t that how things worked out last time?

But Stiles is caught in a very careful trap right now, and he needs at least a small bit of more freedom, even if he has to go to the same school as Theo. That would be okay, as long as he’s getting out, doing something more with his life than just working and sitting at home, waiting for some form of human interaction. He stills sees Scott a good amount, considering that Scott went nearby as well and is always, always there for Stiles, but it’s not enough. He mostly relies on Theo, another reason why it’s so hard to extract himself. Not to mention the reactions when he’s tried to do it before. 

“But you’re my breadwinner,” Theo says, a hint of amusement in his tone, and at least he seems alright right now. Hopefully that continues, despite the fact that Stiles doesn’t think this conversation will go anywhere and he’s still tense, but not enough to start shaking. Thank god. 

Theo is silent for a few minutes, and Stiles only realizes he’s holding his breath when he starts to feel dizzy. He forces himself to exhale slowly, taking in deep breaths from now on to restore his oxygen. “I think it’s a good idea,” Theo finally says, and Stiles is so shocked that he nearly falls down, the dizziness a contributing factor, but Theo easily holds him up. Always that hidden strength. “I mean, you’re right. You could still work and take classes part time. And if you went to school with me, we could see each other more.”

His lips smile against Stiles’s ear, and Stiles resists every urge to celebrate this victory, knowing that he has to do it quietly and in private. But he still has to express his gratitude somehow, and he’s preparing to turn around in Theo’s arms and kiss him when suddenly there’s the subtle slide of teeth against a spot below his ear and Stiles’s breath stutters, whole body flooding with heat as arousal instantly begins to coil in his gut. Not fair. Not fair that he has a spot that turns him on like a fucking light switch, and definitely not fair that Theo knows just how to use it.

The teeth continue, gently scraping against the soft skin there before he begins to intersperse them with kisses, light at first, until Theo clamps down and  _sucks_  and oh, no, Stiles’s hands are going out to grip the counter’s edge because he can’t support himself otherwise, breath beginning to pant in his chest.

“Good boy,” Theo purrs, breath ghosting against the same spot on Stiles’s neck, and Stiles nods distantly, the praise causing another rush of pleasure in his system. Another thing he’d never expected of himself until he started seeing Theo. And oh, how long ago that felt now. Two years. Two years, and he’s trained now, knowing exactly what Theo will do before the other teen unbuckles Stiles’s belt, slowly undoing his button next and then the fly, before–before pulling away entirely, leaving with a final kiss beneath Stiles’s ear. 

Stiles finally turns around, catching the sight of Theo beginning to shed his clothes and drop them carelessly on the floor as he heads towards the bedroom. He turns enough to make eye contact with Stiles’s for just a brief moment, winking at him with a smirk before continuing on his way, and Stiles is quick to follow, knowing the faster he’s there the better the reward will be. And he’s already gotten the reward of going to college, but oh, that could change in an instant. He has to be on his best behavior, now, or Theo could take it all away. Again.

***

It started out innocently enough. In Theo’s opinion, at least. Stolen glances, subtle touches, some light cyber stalking to get more information, though none of it was very surprising. Stiles had been best friends with Scott in fourth grade, and when Theo came back to Beacon Hills, he still was. Only now Stiles was fully developed, matured into a boy with doe eyes and a mouth meant for sin.

At some point, an innocent fascination turned into an obsession, and Theo can pinpoint the exact moment when. They’d all gone out for a big night together, all of them getting into a club that didn’t card since half of them were still underage and the rest were a newly minted 18. Theo had turned 18 early in the fall, but Stiles was still a few months younger, and Theo had kept his eyes on him the entire night, curious, fascinated, enraptured.

The moment Stiles took the dance floor, though, he knew he was done for. Because god, could he move.

Those hips were deliciously sinful, and Theo was having trouble staying still and just watching, watching, watching how Stiles moved and danced and seemed to be getting flirtier with the people around him by the second. No, that wasn’t going to stand. That wasn’t something that could happen, or Theo would be driving himself jealously insane for the rest of the night. 

So he slipped onto the dance floor, making his way over to Stiles and easily pulling him towards him, away from whoever he happened to be dancing with at the moment, didn’t matter. Stiles turned, prepared to make some smart comment, Theo was sure, but stopped, laughing when he saw it was Theo. He was already pretty buzzed from the shots they’d done before the club, and here it was showing through, because usually Stiles wasn’t so…friendly with him. Standoffish was the best way to describe how he usually acted around Theo.

But now his eyes were bright with alcohol and he was practically buzzing with energy, a happy drunk, it seemed, and potentially a flirty one judging by the way he’d been behaving on the dance floor. And was behaving now, as he slid his arms around Theo’s neck, allowing Theo to pull him in close by his hips. 

“Mind if I cut in?” Theo asked, a light smirk on his lips, but Stiles was smirking right back, like he knew, knew what Theo was thinking and what he wanted right now. What he’d wanted for a while, and Stiles knew it and oh, was he going to tease.

Theo already had their hips moving in time with each other, their bodies pressed together, and he was amazed that all it took was a little alcohol for Stiles to be friendly with him. That seemed to be all he needed, and thank god for that because it meant that Theo could  _touch_ , and fuck did he want to, as much as he could before Stiles sobered up and pushed him away again. He would take advantage of this opportunity, because infatuation was evolving into obsession and this was dangerous, but he couldn’t stop himself. Stiles was just so ready, so open, so available. All his for the taking, or so it seemed.

They were getting closer and closer together as their eyes seemed to glance between each other’s eyes and lips, and Theo was moving to close the minimal distance between their mouths when Stiles suddenly pulled back, laughing lightly, and slipping out of Theo’s arms. “Not happening,” he said, and returned to dancing with whoever he felt like, something sharp shooting through Theo, barbed and prepared to hurt.

And fuck did it hurt, and Theo left the club before he had to see anything else, anger roiling in his gut and creating a storm of rage that was clouding over his brain. This wasn’t going to happen. He wasn’t going to get that close, then be told that he couldn’t have him. Wouldn’t have him, and that was really what got to him, spurred him into action. Stiles had danced so close to him, then purposely pulled himself away, cruelly teasing because he knew he could. And Theo wasn’t going to allow that.

So he called a few old friends, some people that he knew to be reliable and wouldn’t say a word once it was done, and invited Stiles to a “pack meeting” at his house, where he was the only guest. He could tell that Stiles knew something was wrong the second he entered the house, but he didn’t have much time to try to back out of things. Not much time at all. 

Theo sat in one of the armchairs in the living room and watched dispassionately as Stiles was steadily beaten more and more into the carpet, blood that he’d have to clean up later–wouldn’t be the first time–making its way into the fibers. Hard to clean, but worth it. Especially when he was seeing Stiles covered in blood, beaten and bruised and so very, very vulnerable. Oh, he’d put up a fight at first, but now he’d been beaten into submission, and when it was getting to a dangerous point, Theo called off his friends, getting up and making his way over to Stiles slowly, stopping just short of where he was on his hands and knees on the carpet, about to collapse.

After a moment of simply considering him, watching him, Theo reached out with his foot to gently push Stiles, who collapsed onto his side, breathing heavy, one eye totally shut. He’d wanted that, wanted one of those Bambi eyes to be damaged, the eyes that had originally started his slow descent into obsessive insanity and then had turned so mocking when rejecting him. He examined the damage for a moment, and yes, it would probably scar. And that was exactly what he wanted. He wanted to leave his mark on Stiles, even if this was how he had to convince him, what he had to do to get him. Violence clearly wasn’t out of the question, and Stiles had to have realized that by now.

“I’m sorry, but I had to,” Theo said softly, crouching down by Stiles and reaching out to stroke a hand through his hair, rewarded when Stiles didn’t pull away at all. Too tired, too broken, it seemed. “It’s not nice to tease, Stiles. And it’s dangerous to tease me. So,” he said, tone cheerful, like Stiles wasn’t currently broken on the floor next to him. “Either you say no, and we let this continue until I’m satisfied, or…you say yes, and I take you to the hospital.”

After a minute, a weak voice asked, “What’s the question?” 

Theo smiled, thin, sharp, a knife’s edge. “Whether you’ll be mine.”

From there, things had just…progressed. And now Theo finds himself where he is, in bed with a worn out Stiles while he watches him sleep. Stiles is the picture of innocence when he’s asleep, which is ironic considering the sins they’d been committing just a little while ago. He looks like a fawn all curled up in a thicket that a hunter had just accidentally stumbled upon. And Theo is something of a hunter, isn’t he?

He leans over to see Stiles’s face more clearly, the other teen facing away from him, and brushes his hair back a bit to better see the scar over his left eye, the one that he’ll never be able to see properly out of again. Theo smiles to himself as he gently traces the pad of his index finger along it, Stiles twitching in his sleep, but too deep into it to actually wake up. A mark on his love, now and forever. Something that Stiles will always remember, no matter how this situation turns out, even if he manages to escape.

Which he won’t, but Theo has to be prepared in case he does try. Which is why he’s allowing Stiles to go to school as he was scheduled to before the whole mess happened that ended up with Theo shoving his fingers down the back of his throat to get him to spit up what he’d taken. Stiles had tried, tried so hard to leave, but Theo had reeled him right back in. When he’d recovered from the attempt, he’d expected Theo to be angry and hurt him, but Theo had done the exact opposite, showering him with kindness and concern, until Stiles really was convinced that he’d imagined the previous abuse, despite the scar that marked the proof. Then of course, the anger had come.

But now, Theo has to put a little slack into the leash, let him slip away just a bit, but still be able to reel him back in. He hates doing it, he does, but it’s a necessary evil. After all, an animal that feels too trapped will lash out, and the last time Stiles had “lashed out” he’d almost lost him, though it’d made a pretty excuse to keep him confined for a while. After all, if Stiles was so emotionally unstable to the point of being suicidal, how could he be trusted to go to college by himself, deal with the stress and pressures that came with it? Even his father had agreed that it was a good idea for him to stay home for a while. Home being an apartment near campus with Theo, of course. As soon as Theo had been able to move them out on their own, he had, and by that time it wasn’t that odd, considering they’d already been dating for almost two years. At a mature enough age to live together, though Stiles’s father had taken some convincing. Mostly aided by Theo’s parents telling him what a good idea it was, Theo pulling the strings as usual.

He lies on his back again, looking up at the ceiling rather than at Stiles for the moment. Shortly, he’ll curl up close to Stiles again, breathe in his scent and the smell of sex still lingering in the air and fall asleep next to him, an afternoon nap that they can both enjoy before waking up for dinner. Or round two and then dinner, either way. He can take his time and enjoy Stiles, or be merciful and let Stiles eat first considering he was hungry enough to disobey Theo earlier. That’s alright. Theo’s willing to forgive that minor transgression, because he’s in a good mood today and willing to be generous. And besides, Stiles has been such a good boy lately, doesn’t that deserve a reward?

After a minute, he turns onto his side, moving in to press himself against Stiles’s back, wrapping an arm around his waist. Stiles snuggles back against him in his sleep and Theo smiles to himself, stroking Stiles’s smooth, toned abdomen. Everything in their relationship right now is so…

***

He ends up having to start over with his report, a simple thing about a domestic disturbance call that he’d taken yesterday. The couple had been shouting and swearing at each other, but not laying their hands on each other, and despite that, he’d only been able to think of Stiles when he saw them. Wondering what it looks like when he and Theo fight, if he’s past the point of yelling and fighting back and has simply fallen into apologies, blaming himself as victims often do. Is that what their relationship is now? One big fight with an ensuing apology from the wrong side?

Well, he’s sure that Theo apologizes as well, never meaning it but always seeming sincere, because that’s how the cycle goes. Hurt and pain and anger and then love and adoration and kindness. Both ends of the cycle make him feel sick, the thought of Theo hurting Stiles abhorrent, but also the thought of him being gentle to Stiles, touching him–

He really does break his pen this time, ink spilling over his hands but luckily not onto the freshly filled out report. He gets up to head to the bathroom and wash off his hands, mind continuing to slowly torture itself with thoughts of Theo and Stiles and what goes on in secret between them, on both ends of the spectrum. 

The thing is, Theo’s good at it. Like, _really_  good, always able to cover up for himself and what he’s been doing. The first incident was the only obvious one, and that had been easy to pin on someone else, everyone–for the most part–buying into the mugger story. Even Derek had bought into it for a little while, until he’d seen the look in Stiles’s eyes when asked about it. That sheer, unadulterated fear, followed by a lie that Derek really wished wasn’t a lie. He wants to believe that Theo’s been telling the truth since day one, that what he thinks is happening isn’t really happening. But he knows now.

Well. Suspects. The change in Stiles over the course of his relationship is obvious, and startling. It’s been slow, steady, so subtle at first that you could only realize what’d happened by looking back and comparing what Stiles used to be to what he is now.

Because Stiles used to be so…well. Different. But different in a special way. He’d been so effervescent, bubbling and brimming with energy and cracking jokes and making sarcastic comments and generally being outgoing and happy, so happy. And then he gradually started to get more and more quiet, more and more withdrawn, until he’s what he is now, a ghost of what he used to be.

The spark is still there, the inherent, undefinable quality that’s  _Stiles_ , but he’s not the same. Someone has steadily been extinguishing his fire, and Derek’s afraid of what will happen if it goes out completely. It almost did, that night he ended up in the ER again with a far too calm Theo, as if Theo had seen it coming. But his hands shook the right way and his voice quavered just enough and again, everyone bought into the lie because it was less horrifying than the truth. But Derek never did.

He won’t lie–he’s just as scared of the truth as everyone else is. It’s a horrifying thing to contemplate, and he doesn’t want to imagine someone doing that to Stiles, anyone hurting someone so young, so full of potential, so precious. Part of the problem is that everyone assumes that if Stiles was in that sort of relationship, he’d be able to get out on his own. He’s tough, and strong, and independent, so if Theo is really hurting him like that, controlling him, won’t he have the strength to leave?

But it’s not that simple and Derek knows that. Knows that abusers can be sweeter than honey and sharper than vinegar, able to pacify one minute and cut the next. His own experiences with Kate taught him that. But he wasn’t quite as deep in as Stiles seems to be, and he doesn’t know what to do, how to help. There is no proof, no evidence, because Theo is far too careful for that. If he’s leaving behind bruises, it’s not in places that anyone would be able to look at or see naturally. The most major injury that Stiles has had in the past year was a sprained wrist, and that could have been anything, though Derek has the feeling that he knows what it was. 

Most likely, Theo is using hits that don’t leave marks for very long, backhands and full face slaps that redden cheeks for a little while but then wear off. Of course, what’s lying underneath Stiles’s clothing could be something different entirely, bruises and bitemarks and scratches and all kinds of things that Derek doesn’t want to think about. 

He starts washing his hands underneath the always temperamental flow of the faucet in the men’s bathroom, the one that can go from a trickle to a flood in an instant, cursing as he realizes that he’s probably going to go home with blue hands. It’s his own damn fault for breaking the pen in the first place, but he hadn’t been aware that he was doing it, too angry to notice. And he shouldn’t be this angry. 

It’s not his situation to deal with. He’s not Stiles’s father, friend, boyfriend, husband…he’s just a concerned quasi family friend that needs to operate carefully in this situation because technically he has no right to be involved at all. Isn’t involved, actually, considering he hasn’t talked to Stiles at all about this, hasn’t done any investigating, hasn’t even subtly interviewed Theo about it. He hasn’t done a single goddamn thing in two years and he’s wondering exactly how much of a coward he has to be when he realizes that he’s scrubbing his hands raw under too hot water.

Abruptly, he turns off the faucet, placing his now periwinkle hands on either side of the sink and looking down into it, breathing a touch heavy because he’s angry, so goddamn angry. Mostly with himself, his own inaction, but also at Theo because he’s the source of this and he’s the one that hurts Stiles and then smirks with his arm around him in public as if he owns him, as if gloating to everyone about the fact that he caught Bambi in a bear trap. He’s the one who made Stiles change when Stiles was perfect before, drained the life out of him in an effort to get rid of his will to fight. Bent and twisted him into a new shape to better serve his own purposes. Serve himself. 

Thank god he can’t break the sink because his knuckles are white and he really feels for a second like the porcelain is going to crumble beneath his hands. But it won’t, he knows it won’t, and he has to remind himself to take deep breaths, keep everything under control. He’s a police officer. A deputy. He’s been trained to handle himself in a shootout, why does the thought of one person who’s hardly more than a teenager reduce him to this? Oh, but he knows why.

“Fuck,” he growls out between gritted teeth, and rips himself away from the sink, stalking back out into the office. Everyone who sees him wisely moves out of the way, and he heads to his desk, glancing at the clock as he goes. Time to go home, though home means that he’ll just have more time to think about this, more time to torture himself about things he can’t change, as much as he may want to. 

And god, does he want to. Wants to rescue Stiles from the trap that he’s caught in, from the dangerous intent that he sees in Theo’s eyes whenever he sees them together. Which is only once in a blue moon, considering that Stiles doesn’t show up at the police station anymore–even though he used to be here enough that the Sheriff would joke about making one of the cells into a bed, now the Sheriff doesn’t seem to joke much at all–and he doesn’t have any reason, any excuse for them to be near each other. While Derek is occasionally invited to the Sheriff’s house for a dinner or something, his son is always markedly absent from the get-togethers, and he wonders how long that’s been going on. How long it’s been since the Sheriff spent more than a few minutes alone with his son.

Because when Derek does see Stiles around town, he’s almost always with Theo. Unless he’s at work, in which case Derek can’t exactly come around to bother him without risking making Stiles lose one of the only pieces of independence that he seems to have left. Because honestly, he doesn’t seem to have many anymore, and that thought is so sad that it’s what finally spurs him away from his desk, filing the report before grabbing his jacket and beginning to head out the door, home. 

First, though, he has to stop at the grocery store, and he’s still boiling over with unusable rage to the point that pretty much everyone in his vicinity is automatically turned away from him, no one daring to make eye contact, and he prefers it that way. In a town that likes to chat with their neighbors, he’s happier going about his daily business alone, very rarely having to say more than a few words to people because honestly, who would he want to talk to? Aside from…

Stiles. Who’s in the middle of the cereal aisle, debating between Lucky Charms and Captain Crunch. Alone. 

He jumps when Derek says softly, “Hey,” looking around a bit wildly before he sees Derek and nearly slumps in relief, and Derek knows exactly who he was expecting to see. Anger clenches tight in his gut. 

But now that Stiles knows who it is, he smiles, holding both boxes up for Derek to see. “What do you think? I mean, I really like the whole, ‘You’ll never get me Lucky Charms!’ thing,” he says, poorly imitating an Irish accent, “but I also like el capitan over here.”

“If you’re going by pictures and slogans rather than taste, shouldn’t you choose Trix? “Silly rabbit, Trix are for kids”?” Derek asks, a small smile on his lips, glad to see that Stiles hasn’t entirely lost his sense of humor. 

Stiles makes a face at that and Derek’s smile grows a touch at seeing it. Definitely hasn’t lost his sense of humor. “No, I hated those commercials when I was a kid. I always felt bad for the rabbit,” he says, and puts the Lucky Charms back on the shelf, adding the Captain Crunch to his cart. “So obviously that means that I can’t endorse a company that supports rabbits receiving that kind of treatment.”

He smiles at Derek, genuinely, and Jesus Derek forgot how much that makes his entire face light up, those warm brown eyes, honey in tea, looking so much brighter. Oh, he isn’t prepared for this, is he? He thought that he was, that he could do it, but now that he’s here and looking at Stiles face to face for the first time in months, he doesn’t even know what to say. ‘Hey I know your boyfriend’s abusing you and I’m here to help’? ‘Hey I’ve kind of been in love with you forever and I’m really scared for you and want to rescue you’? Or maybe ‘Where’s your boyfriend so I can punch his smug little face in’?

Instead, he says, “How have you been?”

That’s innocent enough, right? A genuine question, something people say to other people that they haven’t seen for a while? But it’s also a subtle way to check up on him, watch his expression and gauge how he’s actually doing behind the veneer of how he says he’s doing.

But he’s genuinely surprised when Stiles puts on a seemingly real smile, something actually happy in his eyes, a spark Derek hasn’t seen in a long time. For a second, his heart beats unevenly, wondering if Stiles has actually managed to extract himself from his dangerous situation, gotten out of it himself. That hope lasts as Stiles says, “I’ve decided to go to college next year.”

_He’s_ decided. Not Theo, not anyone else. Stiles decided it himself and is carrying out a plan of his own design, and relief floods Derek at the thought, smile getting a touch easier. That must mean that Theo’s gone, that Stiles is free and on his own now. That explains why he’s alone right now, just grocery shopping by himself, something that he hadn’t been able to do before. 

“Really? That’s great,” he says, and Stiles nods, an unconscious smile spreading over his lips.

“Yeah, I mean, only part-time since I need to keep working, but it’s a good thing, I think. I mean, I’ll probably be going to school with Theo, so I’ll see him more too.”

And just like that, Derek’s entire world shatters again. No, this isn’t a decision that Stiles is making by himself, for himself. This is a decision that Theo is letting him make. Derek’s hands are gripping tight to the handle of his shopping cart, and Stiles seems to notice, forcing him to relax them again, as much effort as that takes. “That’s…good,” he forces himself to say, smile staying on his lips despite the fact that a storm is raging inside his chest, lightning striking in sharp pains that he can’t help. Can’t turn off.

“Yeah…I think so,” Stiles says hesitantly, and Derek is sure that he can at least partially read him right now, something in his eyes that says that he knows Derek isn’t sincere, doesn’t mean what he says. Because how could he? Stiles is still in that monster’s grip, and Theo is  _allowing_ him to go to school. Like it’s some kind of privilege, and not Stiles’s right if he wants to go. God, how did it get to this point?

“Good, I’m glad. Are you–”

His question is interrupted by someone sliding past him, and suddenly Theo is there, smiling at Stiles as he places his hand on the small of his back, dropping something into the cart. So clearly Stiles isn’t actually alone, Theo just feels secure enough to leave him alone for a minute while fetching something for them. He turns a smirk onto Derek, something in his eyes saying he knows everything, and Derek reminds himself that punching him in the face would only make things worse, especially for Stiles. And that’s the last thing that he wants. 

“Deputy Hale,” Theo says, and yes, there’s definitely something smug in his voice, along with false surprise. “What a pleasant surprise. Haven’t seen you around in a while.”

“I’ve been busy,” Derek answers, managing to keep his tone from being clipped, short. A pleasant politeness that he’s really amazed he can even handle. Manage. Shit, he’s still probably transparent and something shrewd in Theo’s eyes tells him he’s looking for something. And if he finds it, that could spell trouble for Stiles. “How have you and Stiles been?”

Another subtle way to check up on things, and he’s surprised when Stiles’s smile is mostly genuine as he turns to Theo, who smiles straight back. Another honeymoon phase, then, Stiles maybe starting to believe–or forcing himself to believe–that maybe he’s imagined all the abuse, that maybe Theo really has changed, despite the scar over his no longer properly working eye that tells the story that Derek still doesn’t have the whole of. No doubt the decision about him going to college has helped things move along, though. 

“Perfect,” Theo answered, turning back to Derek, and there’s something in his eyes that Derek hates, and he’s acutely aware of the hand that Theo is rubbing along the small of Stiles’s back, Stiles seeming content with the touch, not tense and nervous like Derek would expect him to be. Like he almost wants him to be, in some perverse way. 

Maybe they really are happy now. Maybe Theo really has changed. Or maybe Derek has just been wrong from the beginning and the change in Stiles and the suicide attempt were linked to some kind of depression that’d taken hold naturally, instead of because of Theo. Maybe he’s wrong about everything and Stiles really is happy now. But he knows that’s not true, doesn’t he? Because there’s still an edge in Stiles’s eyes, a nervousness like he expects all of this to go away in an instant, turn back into something much worse. And in that moment, Derek knows he has it right.

“Well, we have to get going,” Theo says, eyes flashing back to Derek, that ever present smirk driving Derek a little bit insane. It makes him irrationally–or rationally?–angry, and he reminds himself not to give that away, not to give Theo the satisfaction. He can’t.

“It was nice to see you again,” Stiles says with a little wave, and then they’re off again, Theo finally dropping his possessive hand from Stiles’s back as Stiles pushes the cart. And all at once, Derek wonders if he’s ruined the peace between them, and put Stiles in danger just by Stiles saying it was nice to see him. Theo seems irrationally jealous about everything, and Derek hopes that this incident won’t spur anything.

He releases his white-knuckled grip on the handle of his shopping cart and looks at his list again without seeing it at all. He has to do something.

***

The subject of Derek doesn’t come up until they’re in Theo’s truck, Stiles trapped with nowhere to go, no way to avoid the conversation. He doesn’t think it odd at first when Theo comments, “I hadn’t seen Derek for a while.”

Stiles shrugs, looking out his window rather than at Theo for the moment. “Yeah, neither have I. But I’m sure he’s been busy.”

Theo nods, eyes on the road as he seems to simply think, a silence falling between them that’s comfortable, for once. Not tense, not laden with fright or anger or something equally as dangerous. Or at least, that’s how it seems to Stiles, which is why he doesn’t see Theo’s next question coming.

“You used to have a crush on him, didn’t you?”

All of a sudden, he realizes his mistake in not seeing the danger in this, in not knowing that it was coming, when he really should have. Theo is and always has been an incredibly jealous person, and Stiles should have realized that the reappearance of someone he used to like and now could have friendly conversations with would spur that ugly jealously to come to the surface again. He has to act quickly here, be smart about it, or things could end badly. No, please no, not after things had been going so well for so long. 

“Yeah, when I was like ten,” he says with a carefully calculated snort, everything carefully rearranging itself so he seems casual, as if the very idea is preposterous. “Then I got older and that stopped pretty quickly.”

“Why?” Theo asks, and Stiles realizes with a growing dread that he’s not going to let this go easily, can’t let it go that easily. He’s feeling threatened, and usually that means lashing out. In this case, it means that he’s just going to continue pursuing this as long as possible, and probably try to stake his claim on Stiles again. However that will be. 

Stiles shrugs, still trying to seem casual, nonchalant, like none of this is important, none of it matters. Like he doesn’t realize how tense this situation is and therefore isn’t just trying to appease Theo, but rather telling him the truth. Even though he really doesn’t know what the truth about Derek is at the moment, just that Theo probably doesn’t want to hear it. He wants Stiles to deny the whole thing, reassure him even if he doesn’t believe him. Stiles has a part to play, and he knows how to play it well, the question is just if Theo will believe anything he says and therefore allow Stiles to avoid catastrophe. And pain.

“It was a little kid thing, you know?” he eventually says, like it took him a little while to put it into words. Really he just knows that if he answers too fast, it’ll seem like a lie. “Like having a crush on your best friend’s older brother or something. Once I got older, I realized that that’s all it was; just a little crush that faded with time. And then I met you.”

Part of the problem with Theo–oh, but there are so many problems–is that he’s incredibly hard to read. Absolutely impossible, though Stiles has gotten better at it as time has passed. He knows the little tics, the little inconsistencies that give his mood away and can help Stiles weather the storm. Not that it’s much better when he knows what’s coming and can’t get out of the way of it, but it at least pays to have a little heads-up, especially when it sometimes means that he can mitigate the impending disaster and save himself some agony. Sometimes. 

But right now, he can’t read him at all, and really isn’t sure how displeased he is, but at the very least knows that he’s displeased. Though really, isn’t that a constant state of being for Theo at this point? Stiles really never can seem to do anything right, which is part of the reason why this golden peace between them has been so amazing. Something that makes him wonder if he’s exaggerated to himself what Theo has done to him, if he’s just letting his overactive imagination guide him in the wrong direction. He blatantly ignores the scar over his left eye.

“I see,” is all Theo says after a few minutes, and Stiles feels the skin on the back of his neck prickling, an early warning system like when the hair on your arm stands up when a tornado is approaching. There’s displeasure in that voice, and he can hear it, but doesn’t know how to stop it from growing and spreading and multiplying like a particularly virulent and vicious virus. And he needs to, god, he needs to avoid whatever pain he can, but right now that feels like an impossibility and he simply stays silent for the time being, not sure what else to do and not wanting to make things worse. Because he already doesn’t know how bad they’re going to be.

Maybe he should just ask forgiveness now for ever, at any point in his life, liking someone who wasn’t Theo, being with someone else. Theo has basically already burned all the bridges with the few exes that Stiles has, and Stiles can’t count the number of times he’s apologized for giving Theo so much trouble at the start of their relationship, rather than just giving up and giving in, letting Theo steadily take over his life like he has now. Like it seems he always will. For someone who’s always so self-assured and easily confident, Theo really needs a lot of reassurance that Stiles loves him, but always acts like he already knew it. And Stiles is getting tired of spitting the same lies back at him all the time. 

So maybe he should just leave. Ha. That’s a thought that recirculates every once in a while and one that leaves him just as fucked up as it did in the beginning, because it’s such a sweet possibility that doesn’t exist. And sweet is a relative term, considering at one point in time he thought that hurting himself was the answer, when that had just ended up with Theo gaining more control over him. Leaving is not and never really has been an option, as tempting as it sounds. And god does it sound tempting.

He stays silent for the rest of the ride, the air growing thicker, sticky with the unspoken words between them, the subtle danger that Stiles is feeling, just as he’s always feeling. Always an undertone to their interactions, but it’s faded recently and he had been hoping that it would stay that way, but it appears that he was wrong and is now going to pay the consequences of that. But he can only hope that Theo will be merciful this time around. Maybe.

***

Theo doesn’t like to think of himself as a jealous person. He’s not, really. He just doesn’t like the thought of someone being in danger of taking Stiles away from him. That’s reasonable, isn’t it? Everyone worries about their partner cheating on them, or at the very least developing feelings for someone else in some way, and he’s simply the same, worried that Stiles will slip away from him somehow. And if anyone’s going to take him away, it’s probably Derek.

Derek was Stiles’s ultimate crush, the person that he wanted the most when they were in high school, and it was a running joke among the pack that had been running since before Theo even got there. That Stiles was crushing hard on the older man, had been infatuated for quite a while now, ever since Derek had returned to Beacon Hills after being away with his family for a while. Of course, as time went on and Theo’s attentions became more obvious, the joke died down, eventually stopping completely when he and Stiles started dating. But he’d never forgotten about it. 

Because every now and then, just once in a while, he sees a sign that Stiles still feels that way, that while he’s in a relationship with Theo, it isn’t really the relationship that he wants to be in. What he wants is a dark-haired deputy with a penchant for brooding and a limited sense of humor, except when it comes to Stiles. Then he trades smiles easily and is relaxed around him, enough to just be himself. Of course that stops the second that Theo is involved, because Derek seems to know what’s going on behind the scenes in their relationship.

Not that Theo feels threatened. So far Derek hasn’t done anything, and there’s little that he can do without endangering Stiles, and that’s exactly how Theo wants it. He wants to make sure that Derek is limited in his options, can’t do much at all to “save” Stiles, when really Stiles is perfectly safe so long as he doesn’t do anything drastic and behaves himself, which he’s been doing so well recently. But seeing Derek today…

He’s not a jealous person. He’s really not. But something about Derek makes his blood boil, makes angry heat rise up and take hold at the base of his skull, burning there with dark intent. It makes him want to hurt, to bruise, to claim, and that’s all he can think about as he and Stiles enter their home again.  _Their_ home. A place that should be free of Derek, but he can see that Stiles is still thinking about him as they walk in, though perhaps he’s more thinking about Theo and wondering if this will have consequences for him. 

Good. He should be scared. 

They unload the groceries in the kitchen, and Theo can feel Stiles worrying, worrying, worrying, and thinks for a moment about what he should do. There’s an obvious answer, the route that Stiles thinks he’s going to take, but that isn’t what he has to do, is it? There are other ways to reclaim Stiles, other ways to mark him as his again. Ways that would make Derek crazy if he ever thought about them, and he probably does. Good. Time to make a few of those mental images come true.

“Baby,” he purrs, sliding in behind Stiles and sliding his hands along his hips, and Stiles freezes where he is, hand inside a grocery bag. Clearly he’s thinking, calculating his next move and Theo’s mood, but Theo purposely used the pet name because it’s his good mood one and he wants to lull Stiles into this. There’s no pain waiting for him this time. Just reward, if he plays along.

And he does, pressing back against Theo and smiling, head turned as much as it can be towards the other teen. “Hey,” he says softly, going along with it though Theo can tell that he’s still afraid, and he doesn’t want his baby to feel that way when he doesn’t need to be. Well, okay, he does want that, because it gives him some measure of control that he  _needs_ , but that’s not what this is about right now. Right now he’s just staking a claim again. 

He slowly turns Stiles around in his arms, pressing him back against the counter as he kisses him, leaving it slow for now, smoldering. He can feel Stiles’s surprise for a moment, probably wondering why this is coming for him instead of a hit, but he kisses back easily, eagerly, wanting to appease Theo however he can. That seems to be his way nowadays. After a few minutes, the kiss evolves, devolves into something else, something wetter, hotter, and Stiles is getting lost in it, Theo can tell, forgetting to be afraid again. Which is when Theo pulls back, and slaps him full across the face.

Stiles leaves his face turned to the side, cheek already reddening from the hit, clearly not wanting to face Theo and risk angering him more because it’s such an abrupt change from the kiss and Theo can tell he’s kicking himself for believing that this wasn’t coming, that this wasn’t going to happen.

“That,” Theo says calmly, “was for Derek Hale. Let’s try not to run into him again, shall we?”

But oh dear, there’s something dark in Stiles’s eyes as he turns back to Theo, and Theo know what’s coming before he gets shoved away, Stiles stepping away from the counter he was trapped against. “That’s not fair. That’s not fucking fair, Theo. I didn’t do anything, he didn’t do anything,” he says, and there’s clear anger there, hurt as well. Clearly Stiles has grown a spine again in their golden period together, and now is prepared to take this seeming unfairness out on Theo. Oh good. He likes the occasional real fight.

“Fair, Stiles? What’s not fair is my boyfriend lusting after someone else when he’s been with me for two years,” Theo says, and his voice is dark, his most commanding tone that usually brings Stiles to his knees. “Get on your knees.”

“No,” Stiles says firmly, chest heaving with the force of his angry breathing, and Theo’s eyes narrow. No, he’s not going to take this, not tonight, not ever. Stiles has grown too bold because it’s been peaceful for too long and he’s assumed that that means that he can get away with things. But Theo’s not going to stand for that.

He approaches quickly, and Stiles is ready to defend himself, dodging the first hit, but catching the second one right in the solar plexus, the air leaving his body in a rush, temporarily dazing him. Theo pulls him back upright from where he was bent over and slaps him again, a powerful hit in the same spot as before that has Stiles crying out involuntarily. He usually tries to hold his reactions in when this happens, but Theo has them out tonight because it’s been so long that Stiles has forgotten how to adjust to the pain, weakened again. Good. He wants it to hurt more. 

“Knees, Stiles,” he says calmly, even as he grips harshly to Stiles’s hair, holding him half bent over, and for a second he really thinks Stiles is going to submit, his little rebellion over. Then he catches a punch in the stomach and his grip automatically releases, allowing Stiles to make a run for the door.

No no no no no–he moves as quickly as he can after Stiles, and manages to tackle him just before Stiles’s hand can reach out to grab the knob, Stiles falling to the floor with a shout. Great, that could get the neighbors involved. He flips Stiles onto his back, straddling him, and fights with him for a minute before he manages to get his wrists pinned to the floor, staring down at him with dark intent. He moves so one knee is pressing into Stiles’s chest, limiting his air intake and threatening to push down if he puts up too much of a fight. Stiles stills instantly, looking up at Theo with frightened doe eyes, and Theo smirks, though there’s a barely hidden anger in it. Actually, not very hidden at all.

“Someone’s feeling bold today,” he comments casually, as if they were having a pleasant conversation and he didn’t currently have Stiles pinned to the floor, his cheek reddening with the hits from Theo, his breathing limited by the weight on his chest. “I didn’t realize that Derek inspired such a rebellious spirit in you. I guess I was right to be worried.”

Stiles opens his mouth to speak but stops with a simple, “Don’t,” from Theo. He doesn’t want to hear excuses, lies from Stiles right now. He just won’t be able to handle it, it’ll only make him angrier, and Stiles seems to realize that. Good. He should know by now what to do and not do when it comes to situations like these, but perhaps he’s been out of practice for too long and needs a reminder.

Theo presses his knee down on Stiles’s chest and suddenly Stiles is gasping for air, squirming underneath Theo and fuck, isn’t that a beautiful sight to see? Why can’t it be like this all the time? Stiles weak and submissive and trapped, unable to save himself and perhaps not even wanting to because he realizes that trying will only make things worse for himself, as it has today. Ohhhh, and Theo wants it to be like this, always and forever. If only.

But it seems that Stiles has something else in mind, is more determined this time than usual, and though Theo’s comment about Derek was half kidding earlier, he feels now that it was true, and rage is boiling up, making it hard for him to think. He only realizes that he’s pressing his knee too hard into Stiles chest when something creaks, a rib probably, and he stops abruptly, looking down at him again for a minute before removing the knee entirely.

Stiles takes a deep breath in relief, and Theo simply watches him for a minute, sharp blue eyes trained entirely on him. They simply breathe for a few minutes, Theo’s breath not quite as harsh as Stiles’s because he’s simply angry, not gasping for air. But after a minute, Stiles gets his own breathing under control, eyes carefully trained away from Theo because he’s scared, he’s definitely scared. And he should be. 

Theo is gathering up his energy and whatever calm he has left to speak when the doorbell rings, and he looks up, Stiles’s heart beating faster through Theo’s grip on his wrists. Ah to feel someone’s pulse. And in this case, it lets him now exactly what Stiles is thinking. 

“No, babe. Wait in the kitchen, out of sight. Only come if I call you. And pinch your other cheek to get some blood flowing into it,” Theo says, and for a minute it seems like Stiles is going to disobey, get himself in worse trouble, and Theo leans down to whisper in his ear, “You don’t want to make me angrier, do you?”

Stiles shivers and shakes his head, and Theo lets him up, helping him to his feet. Once he’s sure that Stiles is hidden away in the kitchen, he opens the door, completely unsurprised to find Deputy Hale on the other side. Of course.

“Aren’t you off duty, Deputy?” he asks a little cheekily, brow furrowed slightly as if in genuine confusion. “Or is this a personal visit?”

“I wish it was, Theo.” Derek seems resigned, as if having expected this to happen at some point, and soon. Maybe he knew as soon as he saw them in the grocery store. He’s always been smart, after all. “They called me to ask if I could come because everyone’s pretty busy tonight and it’s just a small noise complaint from your neighbors. A domestic disturbance. Is Stiles around?”

“Of course,” Theo says with a smirk. “Sorry we were being too loud. I think Stiles had the tv on or something. Stiles, baby, come here for a minute.”

And something in Derek’s face twists at that, and Theo feels rewarded for it. Like he’s getting back at Derek for the effect he has on Stiles. After a moment, Stiles appears, and Theo watches him carefully, noting that he must have been doing what Theo said because both cheeks are equally red, like he’s flushed and not freshly hit or anything. He smiles at Derek, convincingly enough, Theo notes, and says, “Hey, what’s up?”

“We got a domestic disturbance call,” Derek says hesitantly, as if he already knows that this is going to go nowhere. That Theo’s going to win again. “The neighbors just wanted to make sure that everything’s alright. Is everything alright?” He looks to Stiles for the answer to the question, and Theo looks at him expectantly, already knowing what his answer will be. What his answer has to be.

But after a minute; “No.”

Theo would gasp in shock if it isn’t so cliche, instead staring at Stiles with wide eyes, wondering what the fuck he thinks he’s doing. Derek must be equally surprised, but Theo isn’t daring to look back at him, keeping his eyes fixed on Stiles and Stiles alone.

“What do you mean, Stiles?” Derek asks carefully, and Theo can hear him taking a step into the room, hand no doubt moving to his baton just in case.

Stiles looks between the two of them, clearly struggling right now, and Theo has nothing but warning in his eyes, a clear signal that if he does this, he won’t come out of it alive, no matter what he has to do to Derek. And Stiles seems to realize it, holding his breath as he looks at Theo, then back at Derek, clearly struggling with himself. But he knows, oh he definitely knows that things will get much, much worse if he confesses everything. The question is really just if he’s grown enough of a spine for it. 

“Yeah, um. The neighbors…” Stiles starts, and Theo relaxes again, realizing where this is going. That Stiles knows better. “The neighbors keep making noise complaints against us but they’re blasting their music all the time. We just have the tv too loud sometimes.”

His eyes lift to Derek’s from where he’d been examining the floor, and Theo turns in time to just barely catch the fleeting look of heartbreak that took over Derek’s features for a split second, dashed hopes. Now it’s hidden under stoicism again, but he smirks, knowing what he’d seen. So rewarding. 

Stiles clears his throat, looking at Theo for a moment before his eyes flash back to Derek. “So yeah. Next time they call in a noise complaint they might just be covering up for themselves,” he says, and Theo is so fucking proud, so proud of his boy for lying and then taking it one step further to try and ensure that the police don’t come knocking again. He must really be trying to get on Theo’s good side. And fuck is it working.

“Alright,” Derek says after a slow minute, and Theo looks at him again. “I guess I’ll leave you two be, then. Have a good night.”

“You too,” Theo responds, a smirk smoldering on his lips, powerful enough to burn, and shuts the door as Derek steps out to leave, casting one final glance back at them that’s cut short by the door swinging shut. That taken care of, Theo turns back to Stiles, who is watching him with a caged expression, looking liable to flee at the first sign of violence, but Theo is smiling widely at him, and genuinely.

“Oh, you beautiful, beautiful boy,” he says, and moves forward to take hold of Stiles’s face and kiss him, who hesitantly kisses back, hands moving to lightly hold onto the front of Theo’s shirt, as if for reassurance. Reassurance that Theo means it, and isn’t about to hurt him. “That was brilliant,” Theo breathes when he pulls away, and Stiles seems somewhat relieved, believing at least a bit that he’s curbed Theo’s anger. And he has. Whatever Theo was feeling is gone, replaced by absolute, overwhelming affection for his Stiles,  _his._  And still his.

“Come on,” he says, pulling away but taking Stiles’s hand, tugging him towards the kitchen. “Let’s make dinner, and get some ice on that cheek. Okay?”

Stiles nods, still seeming cautious around him, but also seeming to realize that Theo isn’t tricking him right now. Just genuinely feeling much better now that he’s seen what Stiles is willing to do for him, for them. God, but he loves him.

***

The disappointment is bitter, crushing. It leaves an acrid taste in his mouth, making it feel like bile is going to rise up his throat, when he knows that it won’t. Not now. 

He’d really thought that Stiles was going to do it.

That he was going to get himself out, reach out for help so that he can finally escape the hell he’s been subjected to for the longest time, but instead it feels like Derek’s been slapped in the face. Like nothing he does or could do will matter, because Stiles has resigned himself to this and there’s nothing that he can do to make it better. He feels helpless, useless in this, and really, that’s how he should feel. Maybe he waited too long to try to do something. Maybe that’s his fault.

Stiles’s reddened cheeks haunt his thoughts as he rides towards home, knowing that that wasn’t a normal flush. Theo had been hitting him, then covered it up as smoothly as he always did, making it seem like it was natural color. But one cheek had been slightly redder than the other, and Derek knows what that means. And almost wishes he didn’t know. 

It’d be so much easier if he’d never noticed what was going on. If he can just convince himself that he’s imagining things, that he doesn’t actually know what he’s talking about, and Theo isn’t what he thinks he is. Everything would be so much easier if he could just convince himself that Stiles is telling the truth, but he can’t. Because he knows what the truth really is, has known since that night in the hospital when Stiles lied to him the very first time, before he and Theo were even dating. They started shortly after that, and Derek always wondered what that night had to do with it. If Theo had bullied Stiles into loving him.

The thought makes him sick and he reminds himself that he needs to drive carefully on the way home, not recklessly enough to endanger himself or others. God, but he wishes that it had stopped there. That Stiles had been brave enough to tell him the truth, but he doesn’t blame him for not being able to, knowing how much strength it takes to get out of that sort of situation. More than Stiles has, it seems. But he’s afraid of what will happen if Stiles stays in it.

***

Theo has a gun, and Stiles has never been so afraid.

He’s pacing the living room, Stiles on his hands and knees and breathing heavy where he is, halfway between the door and the kitchen, a bag tipped over near him and clothes spilling out of it. His fingers itch, twitching as he looks at the door, as if he could really make a run for it and actually succeed. He knows he can’t.

Theo has a gun.

He’s holding it in an impatient hand, and Stiles wonders a little dazedly how long he’s had it for. It’s not what he should be focused on right now, but he took a few hits to the head and his brain is moving slowly, sluggishly, struggling through molasses uphill. How long has he had the gun? Where did he get it? Why? Well, he thinks he knows why, it was probably for situations just like this, but he’s never gone this far before and Stiles is wondering if this is going to be it, if this is really how this is all going to end. 

Theo has a gun, Theo has a gun, Theo has a gun–

His head is spinning and the world is too, making it hard for him to focus on anything but Theo pacing in front of him and the glint of silver in his hand that has Stiles more afraid than he’s ever been in his life. Because while Stiles always thought that Theo would never take it that far, would never hurt him that much, it’s starting to look like a very real possibility and he’s shaking so hard that he’s having trouble supporting himself on the carpet, ready to slip down to just his knees at any moment, though right now he doesn’t dare move at the risk of upsetting Theo. Who still has a gun.

“You know, Stiles, I really did try,” Theo starts conversationally, and Stiles’s eyes dart to the door once more, though he knows he wouldn’t make it if he tried, and he’s not even sure he dares to try. It seems too hard, too far away, too dangerous. It’d be so hard to do, and not with the cost if he fails. Which he almost certainly would, in his current condition. Bruised, a little bloody, shaky as fuck and probably unable to even stand. And things had been going so well.

After Derek’s visit two weeks ago, things had been fine for a while. No fighting between them, no arguments, and if there were any, they were small things that were easily resolved without any injury. Stiles had been careful to keep Theo pleased, appeased, and it’d been paying off. He’d started looking at schools for next year, Theo even helping him start in on his applications. Everything had been fine. 

And then he’d fucked up.

Oh, it’d started so innocently. A call from his dad, asking him if he wanted to come over for dinner on Sunday. Unthinking, he’d said yes, without consulting Theo first because it was just a dinner and he had those occasionally with his dad. Theo was always invited. Except this time, his dad made it clear that he wasn’t. “Nothing against Theo, I just want to have a family dinner for once. Just the two of us.” Alright, that made things a touch stickier, but he was still sure that he could swing it. Theo would be upset, possibly even angry, but it was just one dinner with his dad, alone, and things had been going so well recently that he felt like he could swing this without Theo being too upset about it. After all, he already knew that Stiles wouldn’t give anything away, not after what had happened when Derek showed up, so this should be fine.

And it was. Theo was okay with it, told him to go have a nice dinner with his dad, and everything was going fine. Until Stiles showed up at his dad’s house and found Derek there as well. Suddenly, everything nosedived from being A-okay to being completely unacceptable, and he’d frozen at the door, unsure of what to do, if he should even go in and continue with the dinner. The problem was, he did. And then Theo had found out, and then the fight had started, and then Stiles had said he was leaving and started packing and then and then and then–and now Theo has a gun, and Stiles doesn’t know what to do.

“I tried really fucking hard.  And you…you just had to, didn’t you? Oh, Stiles…so pretty, but so very, very dumb.”

He turns abruptly and kicks Stiles in the ribs, who lets out a slight cry, bitten off halfway through because he doesn’t know how much noise he’s allowed to make, just knowing that if the neighbors hear, that could be the end of it all, the end of him. And despite the fact that he’d tried to kill himself just a year ago, this is not how he wanted his life to end, certainly not at Theo’s hands. Though this has always been the inevitable conclusion, hasn’t it? Eventually, Theo was going to snap no matter what, get to a point where he couldn’t handle it anymore. This is just his breaking point. 

God, what a breaking point it is. He’s never seen Theo this angry before, this upset about everything, and it’s truly impressive that all it took was a simple fight about Derek for them to reach this point, nothing more. Well, that and Stiles trying to leave, actually trying instead of just threatening to which usually just makes Theo laugh in his face because he knows he won’t do it. But this time he’s made up his mind, or at least had until he ended up broken on the floor with nothing to pull himself back together again while Theo simply stands there with dangerous silver in his hands. 

“Theo…please…” he says, so softly that he’s not sure he can even be heard, and he realizes that he’s crying, that he can’t take this anymore and his body and mind are beginning to break down. No, pull together, just pull together for a little while longer…

“Please what, Stiles? What do you want me to do? You tried to leave!” Theo says, yelling at this point despite how quiet, how careful, how controlled he usually is. This time, he doesn’t seem to have that usual control, and that’s what’s scaring Stiles. Because now, anything could happen. “You tried to leave me and that hurts, Stiles, why would you hurt me like that?”

Here, but here, but here there’s an opportunity. He can fix it, or at least try to, see if he can turn this whole thing around somehow, see if he can lie his way out of it somehow. Maybe. He’s always been good at lying, if he can just come up with something quickly enough…

“Because I didn’t want you to leave.”

The words are croaked out with a dry voice, and they stop Theo in his tracks, making him pause where he’s pacing like an agitated wolf. He slowly turns to look at Stiles, then drops into a crouch in front of him, looking at him with those ever piercing eyes. Like he can look right through Stiles to the back of his brain and find out what he’s hiding, flip through his thoughts and earmark the ones he wants to return to. Stiles has always had trouble hiding from that gaze, and he’s only hoping that he can now. Begging for it.

Theo waits in silence for Stiles to continue, and after a minute he does, slowly. “I thought…I thought you were going to leave me after what happened with Derek, and so I thought I should leave first. So it didn’t hurt as much.”

And Theo wants to believe it, Stiles can see it in his eyes, and he’s searching Stiles’s face for some answer, for some hint of deception somewhere along the way, but right now, Stiles is doing his damnedest to make sure that there’s nothing for him to find. And finally, slowly, Theo begins to put the gun down, and that’s when Stiles shoves him.

In a crouch and knocked off balance, Theo crashes to the ground, and Stiles is up in an instant and running for the door, but doesn’t make it very far. A hand wraps around his ankle and _yanks_ , and he comes tumbling down, the butt of a gun crashing into his head a moment later and dazing him, making the world spin and quiver and change shape before his eyes as he stares at the wall opposite where his head lays. He can’t breathe right and everything feels like it’s underwater, but distantly he can hear the sound of the door bursting open and one shot, two.  And then everything fades, and he slips into a welcoming darkness.

***

Long slow blinks of dark lashes over warm brown eyes, and Stiles comes into awareness slowly, recognizing the light walls of the hospital, and the feel of the bed underneath him. He’s been here enough times to know it by now. He moves just slightly, so very slightly, and winces immediately, his head pounding loudly in protest of the movement. So. No going anywhere for a while, then. Not even turning his head, which sucks because he’d like to know exactly where he is and whether Theo is around.

Slowly, someone comes into his blurred view and his body starts to panic, thinking it’s him, it’s gotta be him–

“Relax, Stiles, it’s just me.”

Derek’s voice, then Derek comes into focus, and Stiles relaxes again, heartbeat calming down significantly because this is a good sign. Even though Derek has a bandage over his shoulder and his arm is in a sling, not such a good sign, and Stiles frowns. Derek catches where his eyes are, and shrugs, then winces with the motion.

“Theo,” he says, and oh, there’s Stiles’s cue to panic again. “Stiles. It’s okay. He’s in custody with a bullet in his arm.”

Jesus. Okay. “How?” he asks quietly, and Derek sits down on the edge of the bed by him, one hand dangerously near Stiles’s leg, but not on it. Not yet. 

“We got another noise complaint from the neighbors. I went to handle it because I had a feeling what it meant, and when I got there…Minor shootout. We both got shot. You were out for the whole thing.”

“No, I…I heard the gunshots,” Stiles said, swallowing dryly. his throat like sandpaper, and Derek hands him a cup of water from his nightstand that he gratefully accepts. Funny, how Derek seems to be the one taking care of him when he’s the one who has a bullet in his shoulder because of Stiles. And seems totally fine with that.

Derek nods as Stiles drinks, looking hesitant for a moment before he gently places his hand on Stiles’s leg, a motion that Stiles knows is meant to be reassuring and succeeds, though it also makes his heart beat up a tic. God, the him from a few years ago would have loved this, would have died for a chance to be this close to Derek, and now…now, actually, he can’t say that he doesn’t like it.

“I’m really sorry, Stiles,” Derek says softly, his eyes downcast for a moment before they return to Stiles’s. “I should have done something sooner.”

Stiles waves a hand casually, as if it doesn’t matter. And really, it doesn’t. He’s fine, he’s alive, Theo is…Theo’s really gone, isn’t he? He’s gone and Stiles is on his own with no one to guide him anymore, no one to control him, to tell him where to go and what to do–Derek looks slightly alarmed as Stiles starts crying, body shaking with the force of his repressed sobs. He doesn’t seem to know what to do, and settles for patting his leg, and Stiles nearly laughs at it. 

He does snort softly, actually, when the crying has settled down enough, and reaches to take Derek’s hand, linking fingers with him. “You’re kinda bad at this, you know that?” he says, and Derek actually smiles, though it’s only a little bit. Just a bit. 

“I know,” he answers, and gently, so gently squeezes Stiles’s hand. “But I’m working on it.”

“With me?”

Derek pauses a moment, then smiles at him, lifting his hand to press a gentle kiss to the back of it, Stiles watching him with teary eyes made bright in his distress. “With you,” he answers. “I’ll stay with you as long as you need me to.”

“Forever,” Stiles answers with a sigh, leaning back against the bed, and is surprised at how serious Derek’s expression is as he says, “Forever, then.”

**Author's Note:**

> The title for this fic comes from a line from the song Trouble by Halsey-"I bet you kiss your knuckles, right before they touch my cheek". I recommend it highly for Steo.
> 
> Friendly reminder that I do commissions, if you're interested please message me at the email address on my profile. Thank you!


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